


Twilight of the Black Dragon

by Witteric of the West (ImperatorAetheris)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Blackfyre Kingship, F/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperatorAetheris/pseuds/Witteric%20of%20the%20West
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**_Lys, 281 AC._**  
  
"Nicco!" The girl called out. I let out a small sigh  
  
Turns out that, save for the fact that I had to keep one name secret from the world -and I had to admit that Aenar Blackfyre, son of Daemon, who was himself the only son of another Daemon Blackfyre was a cooler name than Nicco Daraenon, son of an up and coming Merchant here in Lys and one of the last Rogares- and having to put up with the bullshit that is Slavery, growing up wealthy in Lys was a fairly good way of getting a second life started.  
  
Alright, I did not actually grow up here, instead I arrived some two weeks ago. Turns out that someone had tried to poison me, or, well, Aenar. When he woke up, I had taken his place.  
  
It is fairly strange though, I've heard nothing from him. I know that he is not entirely gone, I can feel it, as if someone scowled or smiled behind my back, alas, he has remained eerily silent so far.  
  
I walked over to her. Her name was Aela, and as far as I knew, Father was trying to get me to marry her. You see, she was the daughter of a much more important family here in Lys. She was also quite the looker.  
  
Damn that supernatural beauty of the Valyrians, her family apparently claimed descent from some bastard son of one of the Forty who was left in Lys God knows how long ago. Welp, that seems to have been enough to get their line to look like that.  
  
Thank God that none of them seems to be capable of riding or hatching dragons, that would be a terryfing prospect.  
  
"Something wrong Aela?" I asked. She laughed, and I could see that whatever was left of Aenar, he definitely approved of such a thing.  
  
I was still more on the fence about this.  
  
"Well, I was with your mother, and your Father asked for you. He said he was important."  
  
I looked at her. It was... unexpected, but thankfully, it would mean I would not be so close to the silver temptress, at least for now.  
  
"I see." I stood up from the seat in the balcony. -And the view of the harbor was breathtaking- "I'll be going then."  
  
Of course, the reason why we were not actually married, was because she was not _yet_ of age.  
  
The walk to my father's office was not too long. He was there, sitting with some papers.  
  
"Ah, you came here soon." He motioned for me to sit, and so I did. He looked at me and sighed.  
  
"The Magisters decided that, with news of the coming Tourney, our family would present gifts to the _King_ in the name of Lys." There was some venom in his voice. Oh sure, he didn't particularly care about the Iron Throne, but he knew well enough how risky tangling with Westeros was... "As much as I tried to oppose them, I'm afraid we have no choice in the matter. Your future Goodfather insisted that you ought to go, something about gaining experience in the trade..."  
  
I looked at him, it was clear that this was something he was reluctant to do. Hell, I was having second thoughts. Still...  
  
"I'll do it Father." I replied, it was clear that he was hoping I would ask him to find another way. It was also obvious that he knew better than to expect that. Turns out, Aenar had been rather adventurous before I arrived.  
  
"Very well," He said with a sigh. "I suppose there's little I can do either way. You will depart tomorrow then. And I believe it would be wise if you dyed your hair..."  
  
"Yes Father," I replied, "Perhaps golden, something that won't look like it's dyed." Mother, after all, had golden rather than silver hair. He nodded and I stood up. "I'll be careful Father, I promise." I said.  
  
Mentally, I was cursing. Now that I remembered, this had to be _that tourney._ As if things were not enough of a mess already.  
  
Oh well, at least no one had any expectations from a Lysene merchant using the chance to present gifts. I was still going almost literally into the dragon's jaws, but it's not as if Varys was aware of all of this, right?  
  
Oh damn it, I'm definitely screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Harrenhall, 281 AC_**  
  
Thankfully, our route did not take us through King's Landing. Instead, my instructions were to wait for the King or meet him at Harrenhall.  
  
Then there was the second set of instructions, the ones left in a letter that I had been ordered to not open until we had disembarked.  
  
It was madness, on that Aenar agreed with me. Still, I dared not touch the box mentioned in that second set. I would open it at a later date, and confront Father about his orders...  
  
We were in sight of the walls of Harrenhall when a courier caught up with us. He had clearly traveled from afar, and something about him was worried.  
  
In Westeros they often say, _Dark Wings, Dark Words._ In Lys there is a saying with a similar meaning.  
  
 _Beware a Courier with a face of stone, for his words are of sorrow._  
  
Of course, this did not mean a man with greyscale, but a courier with a stony expression in his face, like this one for instance.  
  
He spurred his horse forward to catch up with ua, and then rode to me. He was a man of my Father's household, and for some reason that was definitely not comforting.  
  
"Master Nicco, this is most urgent." He spoke. He gave me a sealed letter and made way to the back of the caravan.  
  
I opened the letter, almost trembling. And I could feel Aenar's worry. Then I read, and it took all of my self-control not to weep. Or rather, to keeo Aenar at bay.  
  
Still shaken I called for the courier to come, he did so. And all I could say was.  
  
"How did it happen?"  
  
He looked at me and bowed his head.  
  
"Poison, Master Nicco, it was on the dinner of the night after your departure. The lady Aela was not present, and neither was your sister."  
  
That still meant that Father, Mother and Haegon -that is, my little brother- were dead.  
  
Aenar was in the back of my mind, weeping amd demanding bloody vengeance. He was sure that it had been the work of the Tremollen. After all, the old families were quite jealous when it came to such newcomers as us. I had to admit that they were rather high on my list as well.  
  
You see, politics in Westeros are somewhat cutthroat, but at least the feudal lords can go to war in order to finish a dispute. In the Free Cities, such an option is not available, therefore, it is not uncommon to see murders in such a way.  
  
"What of my sister?" I asked. Most likely, Aela's father would call off that marriage now. I was more worried about Calla and her wild streak.  
  
"I..." the courier looked at me, then continued, "She might have boarded a ship, and I believe that it was bound for either White Harbor or Gulltown, I supposed that she had chosen to meet you here..."  
  
I nearly facepalmed at that.  
  
"You may leave, I suppose that she is planning to use the coin at one of the warehouses in either port to get passage to Maidenpool... Lysandro, you will go back to Maidenpool, and send word to the warehouses in the Narrow Sea coast of Westeros, as soon as there are news of her, she is to be sent to Maidenpool, and she is to wait for me there."  
  
Lysandro, a guard who had been in the employ of our family since I was but a babe, nodded. He was reliable. And that was something I would need now.  
  
As much as I wanted, as much as I should leave this place, all I could do was continuing forward while I thought of a better idea. After all, going back to Lys was not on the table...


	3. Chapter 3

**_Harrenhall, 281 AC_**  
  
I have honestly no idea of what pushed me to still come to Harrenhall. Perhaps it was that I still was supposed to act in the name of Lys, perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps foolishness, perhaps it was all of the above. In either case I was received, given bread and salt, and given accomodations. Lord Whent stated that he was honored that a representative of one of the Free Cities came to the tourney, and a relatively small -if still significant- gift was given.  
  
Once that was done, I retired to my chambers with one small-ish box. Having it there filled me with dread, as did thinking about what Father had planned.  
  
Father thought that Prince Rhaegar was an approachable man, and thus, he would offer him something in exchange for a final peace between Blackfyres and Main-Branch Targaryens.  
  
Within the box -which, while small-ish, was still long enough to have a longsword- was the very sword that my house took its name from. As it turns out, my grandmother stole it from the camp of the Golden Company in the aftermath of the duel between that fool of my Grandfather, and Maelys the Monstruous.  
  
Sure, the Sword was not worth as much since bragging about it would paint a target on our backs, but Father's plan -of using it to get that goal-... that was going too far!  
  
Setting such thoughts aside, and making sure that no one was near the room and the door was barred, I hesitantly opened the crate.  
  
Indeed, within it was a blade of Valyrian Steel. It's guard and pommel with the design of a black dragon, Balerion himself. It was indeed Blackfyre.  
  
I closed it, and put it under the bed. Once this was done -and most likely this meant, once the tourney was over- I'd take my sister, as much as we would still have, and head to Braavos.  
___________________________________________  
  
The first order of business the following morning, was to meet the Mad King himself. And I'd be lying if I said that I was not nervous or afraid about this. After all, He was a paranoid madman. Still, it was the best thing I could do. I took two servants and then the objects that were supposed to be given by the Magisters.   
  
We did so in private, in presence of Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arthur Dayne. And to say that I was not intimidated would be a lie.  
  
The Mad King, Aerys, Second of that Name, was seated in a wooden throne made for the occasion, his hair was long, his beard unkempt and hiding an admittedly handsome face, his nails long... He was definitely gone. Still, as uninspiring a figure as he was, he was still the king. Therefore I bowed as low as protocol dictated for a foreigner, and so far he seemed satisfied.  
  
"Your Grace, my name is Nicco Daraenon, and I am here in behalf of my father, and of the Magisters of Lys with a token of good will."  
  
With that I rose, and had the two servants -both freedmen,- come with the objects. There was gold, lots of it, there were a couple of daggers of Valyrian Steel, and the last of the objects finally got the attention of the King.  
  
"This Egg," I stated, those were the lines I was supposed to say, "was laid down by one of the dragons that was killed in Lys in the aftermath of the Doom. It was in the posession of the Ormollen family, however, his excellence Magister Tyndaro Ormollen, the last of his line passed recently, and in his will he stated that it was to be given to those who had the blood of the Dragon. Of course, it was widely known that this did not mean the pretenders behind the Black Wall, but House Targaryen."  
  
It almost sickened me to spout so much pointless flattery, alas, one does what one must to survive.  
  
The Egg was of a turquoise color. While Tyndaro Ormollen had indeed died recently and with no heirs, he had no such an Egg in his posession. This one came from Asshai by the Shadow. However, the Magisters thought that such a story was a better fit. And certainly, the King agreed.  
  
"A Handsome gift that the Magisters of Lys send." He spoke. His voice sounded surprisingly normal, if excited. And boy was that scary. If I were not looking at him, I could probably not tell that he was mad. "It serves them well to remember that the true heirs of Valyria live in the Red Keep, and to seek such friendly relations. I suppose that you shall be staying for the tourney..."  
  
It took all of my self control not to sigh in that moment. I had planned for it, but there is always that silver of hope that it will be different. Still, as I was trying to keep my head on my shoulders...  
  
"If it pleases Your Grace, so I shall."  
  
"Excellent! I am sure that the Magisters would like a... detailed... account of the events of the tourney."  
  
Perhaps the poison would have been a kinder fate. Alas, Father would have gotten himself killed with that stupid plan of his. I bowed and left the room once I was dismissed, silently thanking whoever brought me here that I was in Harrenhall rather than King's Landing. At least here there was a lower chance of someone finding out who I was, or what was I hiding.  
  
With the most dangerous part of my day done, I figured that I could use a drink.


	4. Chapter 4

ince the grand banquets had not yet begun, a series of taverns -high-class ones of course- had sprung up in the massive grounds of Harrenhall. I found myself heading to one of them, silently praying that I'd find a decent beer.

Once I got there, I found myself seated by a large man with a surcoat that carried the black stag on gold. He was tall, muscular and exhuding a kind of rough charm. Of course, it was Robert Baratheon.

Most people in my situation would relish this. After all, here he was, the man who would become King. And yet, here I was. Not wanting anything to do with this place or situation. My morning had been dangerous enough after all.

"You're not from around here," He stated with a small smirk. I shrugged at that.

"From Lys actually. I assume you're Lord Baratheon." He grinned more widely and nodded.

"Aye, that's me. And here I thought that you Free Cities people only drank wine and fancier stuff!" It was half-joking of course. And I could not help but laugh.

"Eh, most prefer wine. Although, I am partial to a good beer instead. You can imagine how hard it is to get such a drink there."

Soon enough he left -looking around, I saw why, one of the serving girls had that odd type of beauty that you don't find too often among highborn women who are old enough to use their heads -or bodies, as it may be-. An almost innocent beauty.

Rolling my eyes a bit at that I figured that I should try to improve my abilities with the sword.

Westerosi begrudgingly respect gold. But they willingly respect martial ability. Perhaps I was not planing on staying for too long, but I was hoping to at least leave with a couple of contacts here, maybe even friends.  
_____________________________________________________

The rest of the day passed in a surprisingly calm mannner. There was nothing really important going on, or at least not that I could easily involve myself in. And for now that was fine.

Come next morning however... Well, next morning there would be the first of the many great banquets. And, since I was here as an envoy from Lys, I was supposed to attend.

Having dressed in the finest clothes available -and I cringed at the amount of gold-looking stuff, even if I knew that I had to look the part- I allowed a servant to lead me to the Great Hall.

Have I mentioned how damn large is Harrenhall? The Great Hall could easily fit half of my family's manse -and that was not a small manse either.- As we were all seated, I could not help but notice that my seat was fairly close to the Starks.

Silently cursing at Murphy's law and its seemingly constant application in Westeros I took a sip of wine. It would be a very long evening, that was for sure. The servants brought dish after dish, and the ravenous apetite of some Lords was made clear.

The Dancing would come later.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Enjoy your Schadenfreude

The feasting soon gave way to drinking and dancing. Sticking to a mid-sized mug of ale, I found myself once more with the boisterous Storm Lord.

"Saw you at the yard earlier... I've seen better, but for a Lyseni, it's not bad." He stated with a smirk, I shrugged at that.

"Most in Lys don't value such skills. I admit I am quite rusty with a sword though, with all and the lack of sparring partners back home, perhaps I will be able to regain some semblance of a decent shape while being here."

That got him to laugh. Another voice chimmed in, "And here I expected to find another soft Free City prick," The other man had blonde hair, blue eyes and a smirk on his face. He was clearly an Arryn, although the family tree of the Arryns was less clear to me...

"Aye, so did I Elbert," Robert added. Ah, right, the guy that went with Brandon Stark and got killed.

"Well, us Free City pricks tend to be soft, but there are always exceptions to the rule." I added, the three of us shared a chuckle

I chose to leave those two bantering -and to keep a distance from the Starks, just in case- and made my way towards one of the edges of the room. As I saw Brandon Stark approach Ashara Dayne, someone walked closer. He was short, skinny and was dressed rather plainly. Then again, Crannogmen don't tend to spend much on luxury articles.

"They whispered of change," He told me quietly. He knew. Then again, Howland Reed always knew too much. Since I had no intent of going against the Northmen, I was not worried about that.

"They may whisper, but in the end our own actions speak louder than our words or theirs." I replied. This seemed to satisfy him for the time being. He watched his new friend being kind of dragged by Lord Brandon towards the center of the room. And I swear he saw my gaze turn towards a certain silver prick.

You may be aware that, even before turning into a Blackfyre, I was never a fan of Rhaegar Targaryen. Suffice to say, I always found him Foolish. Either way, here he was. The incident with the Knight of the Laughing Tree was yet to occur, but he already gazed at the Stark girl.

Damn Targaryens and their prophecy. if I was good enough with the sword, I'd offer my services to Lord Stark, perhaps try to aid in avoiding a certain situation, probably doing so in a way that would still cause a rebellion. But then again, such a course of action, especially with my current skills, is just a fancy and overcomplicated suicide.

Howland Reed noticed where was I looking at and shrugged.

"You do not like the Prince." He stated plainly.

"As a matter of principle, I don't like anyone until I talk to them," I replied, "But as a matter of fact, I know just enough to dislike him."

I noted that the only Lannister in sight was Gerion -Of course he would be here, especially if Tywin Lannister decided not to attend... which was a bit too petty, but eh, I can't complain- and took a sip of my still existant ale.

"Besides, Lord Reed, something tells me that you know why, as a matter of principle, I am kind of obliged to dislike him."

He nodded. Of course, damn the old gods and their Weirwood information network. Of course they -or a potent enough greenseer- told him. Still, it was clear enough that he was not planning on blowing my cover.

Who would believe a Crannogman? Oh, wait, Aerys, he's paranoid like that.

"Both secrets are safe with me." He told me quietly. I nodded in appreciation for that and he chuckled. Soon enough he added. "I would have expected you to do what seems to be the norm today," He looked at his new friend, quiet Ned who was dancing with Ashara Dayne now. I let out a small laugh and shrugged.

"I have enough on my head to worry about, to add on top of that some offended knight or a list of them. And if one possible offended knight is Ser Arthur Dayne, it's even less of a good idea."

That got a smile out of the cryptic Crannogman

"Perhaps not all is lost then."

Of course, I would rather be in the Summer Isles, a beach, maybe even a drink served in a coconut... Of course, such things were too much to ask of life. Especially right now.

After some time, and hoping that no one would care, I left the edge of the room. Everyone seemed too busy to take notice of a Lyseni approaching a young lady with reddish hair. What can I say, I always had a thing for redheads.

It took me a couple of seconds, once I had approached her, to notice just who she was. Thankfully, I would not be in need of dueling Brandon Stark. On the not so good side, I could only hope that this would not net me a certain bothersome Valeman as an enemy -I mean, I would gladly be rid of him, but I'd rather do so when he does not expect it rather than let him see me as a threat or an obstacle to his plans-

Of course, I should have noticed the red and blue clothing, that should have been enough for me to notice that it was damn Lysa Tully.

Have I mentioned that I really hate Murphy.

Yeah, I do. Especially now.


	6. Chapter 6

I have to admit that Lady Lysa was not unpleasant. I had expected a madwoman. Instead I found a timid girl that stumbled upon her words when I asked for a dance. Thankfully, Lord Tully had not made himself present, instead allowing his brother, Ser Brynden, to come with his daughters.

Figuring that I could talk to the man later -if only to make sure that there would be no misunderstanding- I took to dance with the girl.

"You... You did not ask Cat first." She stated at some point, seemingly confused. I allowed myself to shrug lightly.

"You mean your sister? I had not thought of it... And honestly, I don't think I will. No offense meant by that."

She seemed surprised, and I hoped that it was in a good way. From what I could recall, she was always resentful, albeit not yet to the extent of hating her sister. She would always get what used to be Catelyn's... Now, I do not hold that thing against the future Lady Stark. But still, it was understandable.

"N-None taken." She stuttered. And I could not help but smile warmly at her. On the back of my head, I could feel that Aenar definitely approved.

What could I say, Aenar was shaping up to be a bit of a womanizer. And Lysa, at least before the whole thing with Baelish escalated to where it did, was kind of cute.

Still, the _don't stick it in crazy_ rule applies.

Maybe I'm being too harsh on her, I mean, if this was Cersei, then I would definitely be right to do so, but with her as it is now, maybe I'm being too harsh. Then again, there is no such thing as overkill when it comes to stay alive.

We danced silently after that, although she seemed quite content and after some time I carefully returned her with her uncle.

It was also clear that she was more comfortable with the Blackfish... Eh, he does have that kind of "Cool uncle" vibe to him. I bowed, and made my way off.

I was regretting this whole endeavor. And I did so even more once I found myself with Lyanna Stark.

Of course, being a Lyseni, it seemed that I was quite the exotic item in this feast, even if most were polite enough to pretend to not care.

Lyanna Stark was not.

She was pretty, in a more boyish way. Her grey eyes were full of fire and to be fair, she reminded me of Calla, if a bit more naive.

"So you're the Lyseni everyone's gossiping about" She stated, I looked at her and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose that I'd be the only Lyseni they would even bother to be gossiping about at the moment. I'm Nicco, Nicco Daraneon."

She looked at me, and there was something odd about it. Shrugging it off I looked at her.

"I suppose we will see one another again, however, by your leave."

With that I left, not really wanting to deal with her at the moment. Not that I have much against her, but as it is, I needed to make sure of a couple of things.

I had way too much stuff to think about, to worry about being closely tangled with the whole mess, but I could not afford to remain aloof from it all


	7. Chapter 7

As the feast and dance slowly died down, and having managed to avoid any further encounters with Lyanna -Aenar insisted that she was crazy, even though she seemed to be a more blunt version of Calla- I decided to approach Ser Brynden. After all, the last thing I wanted was to earn the ire of one of the Major Houses -even if it was the weakest of them- for a misunderstanding.

"Ser Brynden." I greeted him. If he asked, I could simply say that since my Father had business in Westeros, he had considered it adequate that I knew who were the major Lords and their families. He eyed me, more curiously than anything else, and then spoke.

"You have me at a disadvantage. I heard some talking about you, but I did not catch your name." He was... surprisingly polite, and... amused? Well, that was better than what I expected.

"Ah, right, my name is Nicco Daraenon, son of Aleo Daraenon. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The older knight eyed me, almost as if looking for a resemblance. And, to be fair, I was most nervous about him and Ser Barristan. I did not resemble that bastard Maelys all that much, but still, he was my grandfather's cousin...

Brynden shrugged the thing off, and nodded.

"Listen, I don't think you had any further intent with my niece..."

I nodded. "Ser, I will be honest, I am not quite the... outgoing man, however, at some point I had to dance, lest someone start claiming that I'm some sort of spy or worse. And, again, being honest, I found your Niece, the lady Lysa, quite pleasant company. However, I understand if the wish of House Tully is for me to keep my distance."

He raised an eyebrow, then chuckled.

"Just don't do something stupid, and we're good lad." Ah, there was the famously blunt yet not quite hostile knight I had expected. I bowed slightly and looked at him.

"In that case, I don't think we'll have a problem, as I don't plan on doing something stupid. And, just in case, just because I'm from Lys, it does not mean that I don't know what do you mean, Ser Brynden."

He chuckled again and nodded.

"I guess we're good then, Magister Daraenon."

"Please, Magister Daraenon is my Father," I told him. Of course, they didn't need to know what had happened. "Just Nicco, a man of your stature has all the right to do so."

He raised an eyebrow, I nodded. "My Grandfather was with the Golden Company." It was... technically not a lie, "He was not from Westeros, and he was not a soldier," that was... technically true, but closer to being a lie, "and we heard about the War of the Ninepenny Kings from him." Now I was lying. "Suffice to say, you left quite an impression. Uh, it's a compliment, just in case." There, play with the fact that I'm a bit awkward myself -which Aenar finds amusing-

"Well, I'll take the compliment then." He was definitely amused by this. "I will be watching you." And now he was serious, and boy was it scary how quickly he was capable of shifting between those two modes.

"Well, I'll keep an eye on the back of my head then, it would speak poorly of me if I fail to notice that I am being watched."

Again he smiled, then nodded. "It would be a good idea. Now, if you excuse me, I believe it is time for me to retire."

I nodded and watched him leave with both his nieces.

Thankfully the Starks were also leaving. And soon enough I left for my accomodations.

I fell asleep easily that night, despite the worry.


	8. Chapter 8

The actual event would start come morning.  
  
I broke my fast alone, and it was rather peaceful. I was interrupted briefly by a courier, as my Sister had made it safely to Maidenpool and _very begrudgingly_ agreed to not show up in Harrenhall. The food was good, -even if the wine was Arbor Gold. I was more of a fan of Dornish or Tyroshi reds- and soon enough I was met by a servant. The boy was to lead me to the stands.  
  
Before arriving here, Aenar had been pretty good with a Bow. As in, insanely good. And, thankfully, it appeared that I had not lost his skills.  
  
Thus, perhaps in order to do something that I knew how to do, and that might earn me some modicum of respect, I ended up signing up for the archery contest. As much as it was not the most prestigious event... Well, I could maybe do decently in the melee, probably survive until we got to be in the Barristan/Robert/Arthur level of fighters, point at which I'd be promptly defeated by any of them. And while I was not bad riding a horse, using a lance, well... that was not a pretty sight.  
  
The Archery contest however, was due for the next day. Today, there would be some non-competitive jousting -that is, not part of the official competition- and sword fighting one on one.  
  
The servant led me to the stands once I was well-dressed, and soon enough I went to the position he told me to go... Which was, basically, next to the Tullys.  
  
Hopefully, this was just a coincidence, or at worst, the Blackfish deciding that it would be better to keep me under close observation.  
  
I came to notice that only Lord Stark, and his son Brandon were present.  
  
Then it dawned on me just what was I about to witness.  
  
Soon, three knights -although they seemed to be on the younger side, and definitely full of themselves- came on one end of the tilting grounds. On the other...  
  
Shit.  
  
The Knight of the Laughing Tree.  
  
Figuring that derailing this part would be more trouble than it would be worth it, I watched as the mystery knight proceeded to demolish each and every single one of the knights.  
  
Of course, things soon advanced as they did. Knights were sent to chase after him when he refused to show his face.  
  
I still wonder how is it that some thought it was Jaime Lannister.  
  
With the events of the day gone down the drain, I made my way out of the stands. Since some headed off to train, I figured that I ought to do the same.  
  
The walk was shorter than I had expected, and, for now, I made sure to stay away from the more famous knights and great lords. As it is, it would not do well to get embarrassed.  
  
Now, one thing that really bummed me, was that I knew that half-swording was not the best idea. Not because it was useless, on the contrary, but because I had to get used to fighting in a way that could be adapted to a Valyrian Steel Sword.  
  
Even if I didn't know if I was going to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors -hopefully with more success- it would not do for me to have Blackfyre and not know how to properly use it in a fight.


	9. Chapter 9

Sparring with rather minor lords and knights was... refreshing in an odd way. I spent most of that time with Lord Whent. He was a pleasant fellow whose hair was starting to turn grey. He was good with the sword, not on the level of Ser Arthur or his own brother Ser Oswell, but he was not half-bad either.  
  
At that point in time I had to think as well of what to do now. After all, going back to Lys was not an option.  
  
To be fair, neither of the Free Cities was a realistic option. He knew that the major families of Lys, or at least those who had a covert interest in seeing his own family out of the way, had strong ties and allies in Myr, Tyrosh, Volantis and even some in Pentos. Braavos had its own environment and local power blocs, on which he would probably not fit properly. And Lorath, Qohor and Norvos were cities that his family had no operations in. That only left Westeros.  
  
Westeros, of course, had its own share of problems. After all, he was a Blackfyre. And this meant that there was only one way in which he could be anywhere near _"safe"_ in Westeros.  
  
Take that thrice-accursed throne.  
  
Normally, he would have given up in exhasperation. However, he knew that the situation was not nearly as desperate. As a matter of fact he had just enough time to make the best of things as they stood.  
  
He knew that the future rebels would be... reluctant to give a Blackfyre the crown. He also knew however, that an outsider was a more palatable alternative to some houses than elevating one of their numbers to the Throne. Furthermore, with the whole situation with House Targaryen as it would turn out... He might actually have a decent chance.  
  
The hardest part could be convincing the Golden Company to come along. Besides, so long as he did not make himself too notorious, things should still play out similarly enough. To be honest, he had at last an idea. And so long as Rhaegar still took Lyanna to the Tower of Joy -it was only a name and a very vague location, but the name was unique enough-, Storm's End was besieged, and Robert won at the Trident, he would be capable of adding his own forces and, hopefully, making even a mad dash to the capital, and be the one to capture King's Landing.  
  
Still, he was stuck here for the next couple of weeks. At least he could use this time to see that things did not diverge too greatly... Not yet.  
  
With this in mind, soon I was back at the Great Hall. There was a second night of feasting to come.  
  
I was seriously hoping to remain far away from one certain Stark.  
  
Of course, God decided not to listen to my prayer.


	10. Chapter 10

"I must ask why the insistence on talking to me, I am, when all's said and done, not that interesting, Lady Lyanna."

The girl in question rolled her eyes

"They say that you came because the Magisters made you, but it is also said that you're a spy..."

With a small sigh I looked at her.

"The former is true, and at the end of the day, I insist, I am not all that interesting... Just a foreigner who was in the right place at the wrong time."

That got her to raise an eyebrow. With a small shrug, I looked at her.

"Any Lyseni merchant princeling would stay in his rooms or tour the castle, not to mention, flirt with most ladies around here, yet you pick up a sword, and if I heard correctly, you also entered the lists for the archery contest." She told me, her arms were crossed and her eyebrow still raised.

"Then I am a fairly strange Lyseni then, that's nothing new. Perhaps that is why the Magisters thought that I was... adequate... for this, rather than the son of one of the more... traditional... families."

That earned a small laugh from her, I watched her, more confused or expecting than anything.

"Why, some could almost claim that you're a prince in disguise rather than a merchant princeling" She was clearly joking... I could feel Aenar panic in the back of my mind, but I just laughed slightly.

"Well, from a certain point of view... Now, by your leave." With that I moved towards a balcony. The expression on her face was all I needed to know that she did not really know.

I spent there a couple of minutes. However, once I had managed to get Aenar calmed down in my mind, I went back into the hall. I stayed away from the King, and from Prince Rhaegar.

Of course, I was bound to bump into the Silver Prick -thankfully, not in a litteral sense-

Thank God that my father had not warned him of what he was planning.

I bowed and left before he could speak, however, Aenar went into a panic again in the back of my head. That joke had really gotten to him.

I finally settled for remaining close to Lord Baratheon and Lord Elbert. The latter greeted me with a laugh, the former eyed me oddly before taking a large gulp of his ale. When I was starting to get a bit tense, he laughed.

"Gods you should have seen your face!" I laughed along, calming down.

"Robert!" Elbert said in faux admonishment, "Don't scare him, I saw him with that bow of his, he'll take you out before you're in hammer range." It was all in jest of course. And soon enough, the third -and sane- man joined us. Eddard Stark had a small smile on his face, no doubt because he had managed to get a second dance with Ashara Dayne.

"Hah! Look at you Ned!" It was Robert again, "I knew you had it in you!" The aforementioned Stark seemed to shrink a bit, clearly embarrassed as Robert pushed a mug of ale into his hands. "No one else would believe that you'd actually do it, but here you are. So... are you moving to Starfall, or is she going to Winterfell?"

I said nothing, chuckling slightly at the situation before me. Ned Stark was as red as the dragon in the arms of House Targaryen, looking away in embarrassment.

"Now, now, he needs some time." I finally chimed in. "But," and how could I resist joining the teasing, "I shall endeavor to present a gift from my family at your wedding, Stark."

"I..." He looked at me confused, managing to not stutter -then again, for all his shyness, Eddard Stark barely stuttered at all- "Thank you, for your good will, Magister Daraenon." Ah, he was still articulate enough to call me that.

"Ah, but Lord Eddard, I insist, call me Nicco. I have to admit, I could hardly find better company than you fine men." That last part was directed to the trio, "Well, I could think of one or two persons of the fairer sex." I grinned, then laughed. Robert laughed boisterously, Elbert joined in, and even Ned was laughing -if more quietly- After all, if I could milk the typical image of the Lyseni for laughs and bond slightly with those three, then I'd milk it dry.

I managed to somehow stay sober throughout the night. Elbert and Robert were definitely drunk at the end of it. Ned managed a third dance -which only increased the Teasing, even more so when Brandon Stark joined in as well- and I purposefully stayed away from the dancing area.

I have to admit, I had been expecting a much worse night.


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up early the next morning, and soon enough I was in the grounds. Today and tomorrow the Archery contest would be held. I was on the lists...

There was not too much of a crowd, in no small part due to the fact that watching a large amount of people with Bows and Arrows is not as entertaining as watching some knights beat each other blue with their swords and lances.

Much to my chagrin, watching in the stands there was Lyanna Stark. Oh, sure, Eddard and Robert were there as well. Since the King did not deem this worthy of his presence, the Prince of Dragonstone was also here... And was that the Blackfish?

Well, at least I'm glad about some of them.

I focused on the targets. You see, Aenar was pretty good with the bow before I arrived, and I took to it quickly. -thankfully, he did have the upper body strenght to draw a longbow and hold it for some time- So I was capable of zoning out, for an hour or so, there was only myself, the bow, the arrows and the increasingly faraway targets.

Two hours later, I had made it to the final seven. We would finish the contest the following day.

The rest of the day was spent in various smaller private luncheons of the various houses. I had expected anything but being invited to eat with the Tullys.

I arrived in the room, and promptly I was seated. This being a luncheon, the meal was supposed to be light. Wine, some sweets and bread with cheese and spiced sausage in slices. It almost reminded me of Chorizo.

I bowed slightly before sitting down, the food was brought, and Ser Brynden said a small prayer of thanks. If there was one thing I'd learned in my time here, it was that no matter the universe, you thanked whatever gods you worshipped for your meal.

"Forgive me for asking but..." It was Catelyn. And I have to say, both sisters were quite the lookers... Admittedly, I do have a thing for redheads. "Is it true that your people worship a goddess of..." She could not bring herself to finish the question and was blushing quite adorably. Brynden was looking at her, more surprised than anything else, and Lysa was... she was blushing just as much, probably this had been her idea.

I laughed slightly.

"Many gods are worshipped in Lys. Yes, most worship the Lady of Lys, who happens to be a fertility and sex goddess, my family however, worships the Seven. Although I doubt you'd recognize the rites, as those who worship them across the Narrow Sea tend to remain closer to the current worship in the Hills of Old Andalos... And before you ask, yes, regrettably my father does keep slaves, albeit he makes sure to be a kind master and has freed several in more than one occasion... I'd rather do away with such an institution. Slavery I mean."

That seemed to have taken them all by surprise. Of course, I was being quite honest without telling the whole truth. The oldest families still worshipped the gods of Valyria, the ones that had risen to prominence since the Doom, worshipped the Lady, and my own, well, Father was raised in the Seven, although the Septon was from Old Andalos, and the rites have diverged greatly... And of course, I was definitely not on board with Slavery. That would surely earn me some modicum of respect.

"I... I see..." Catelyn, with her curiosity sated, had little else to say, although she seemed quite deep in thought. I offered a warm smile.

"You need not worry, My Lady, It is better that if you are to learn of such matters, you do so from those who are there. While it is good to be firm in your beliefs, the wisdom of those who do not think alike is something to be appreciated." I was for some odd reason feeling a bit like Obi-Wan here. Thankfully, I would not have stormtroopers following me, nor would I need to worry about telling the hormonal kid that the definitely hot girl he seemed to have a crush on was his sister... Not that he did.

Anyway, the luncheon after that was mostly small talk. Lysa asked a few more questions about the Free Cities, I answered as much as I could, and once the time for that was done, I bid my farewell and made back for my quarters.


	12. Chapter 12

I did not win the contest.  
  
The man who took it was named Alaric. Alaric Snow. He took it with a Longbow.  
  
I did well enough, taking the third place. And a Dornish took second place. Thus, with the events of the day finished, there would be yet another feast.  
  
I spent the first hour or so with the three musketeers -that's what I'm calling Ned Stark, Baratheon and Elbert Arryn- Yet, one thing led to another, and in a rather confusing chain of events, I was soon dancing with Ashara Dayne.  
  
The fact that her brother did not hide his disapproval was amusing and scary at the same time.  
  
"You seem to be avoiding the lady Stark" she told me at some point. Now let me tell you something. Eddard Stark was a lucky fellow. That woman is not just utterly gorgeous, she's also smart.  
  
Admittedly, it did not take too much brainpower to figure that out.  
  
"Aye, perhaps I can explain with an old tale" I saw her raise an eyebrow and it took all of my willpower to not drop the quote from Doctor Faustus.  
  
"My grandfather used to tell us of two peoples, the Achaeans and the Trojans. The former were a series of smaller kingdoms, but who came together for common cause under the King of Mycenae. The latter were a single Kingdom.  
  
One of these kings, Menelaus, King of Sparta, was married to a woman named Helen. However she was taken, and my grandfather claimed that not all versions of the tale agree on how, by a Trojan Prince named Paris. Suffice to say that Menelaus, scorned, called in some oaths ang convinced his brother, the King of Mycenae to go to war... Suffice to say, Paris did not survive the ordeal. "  
  
Of course I was leaving many things out, but what else could I do? She looked at me and nodded.  
  
" Lord Baratheon would be Menelaus, and Lady Lyanna would be Helen. " She stated as a matter of fact.  
  
" Aye, and may the gods have mercy on whatever fool sets himself as Paris, because I know that Robert will have none."  
  
"That is still assuming that she is interested in you on such a way" Her violet eyes met mine, and I knew why were they said to be haunting.  
  
"All it takes is Robert thinking that I am. And I would rather not be part of his kill list."  
  
"I doubt that he has such a list," she added.  
  
"He doesn't, but I'd rather not cause him to create one. Besides, there's also Brandon Stark to worry about."  
  
She was deep in thought, and soon enough things returned to their natural order. By that, I mean that Lady Dayne was now with Ned Stark once more. I was closer to Robert, Elbert and Brandon, and Prince Rhaegar was watching me.  
  
Well, shit.


	13. Chapter 13

I sat in the stands, rather close to the Tullys when it happened.

The last two jousters rode. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, in his absolutely horrible black and red armor, and Ser Barristan Selmy with his white cloak. It took five different passes with the lance, but finally, Ser Barristan came down. And, to the surprise of everyone save for myself, Rhaegar placed the crown of Blue Roses on Lyanna's lap.

The girl in question looked at him, more confused than anything. I was still sitting next to the Blackfish and I could not help myself.

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt down the topless towers of Ilium?"

I noticed the Blackfish looking at me slightly confused and I shrugged.

"What? that prick has been looking at her throughout the week. I honestly can't believe that no one else saw this coming." Admittedly, Rhaegar was much more subtle than Lyanna -and thankfully she didn't seem to actually be trying to get it on with me- But still...

"Well, it seems like no one did." Ser Brynden replied, slowly coming down from the shock as Catelyn whispered something about how romantic, Lysa was -as was her custom- blushing brightly, and I could see Robert Baratheon being basically held down by an equally enraged Brandon Stark and Eddard Stark.

The Commotion died down soon enough, and I had to admit that I was oddly thankful about the fact that suddenly the attention didn't seem to be on me. Soon enough, the final feast of the tourney was to be thrown.

The great hall was abuzz with whispers, mostly about the whole matter with the Prince.

"Ah, Magister Daraenon..." Speak of the devil...

"Your Grace," It took all of my willpower not to punch the man then and there.

"I was hoping to have a word with you, perhaps you may... enlighten me about the legend of Helen." Ah, right, surely the Daynes had told him... This actually served to confirm -or at least partly- the theory that Ashara was probably in on at least a part of this mess.

Not that I'd rat her out.

"Well," I was fighting against every fiber of my being to not turn it into a Palpatine-narrated legend like that of Darth Plaeguis, "Helen, Queen of Sparta was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. According to the ancient myth, three goddesses, Hera, Aphrodite and Athena were vying to figure out which one was the most beautiful among them. Since the gods of Olympus were too scared to anger either of them, they went down and chose Prince Paris of Troy to judge. When he refused to say a word, they each offered him a gift. Hera offered to make him King of All Asia, Athena, offered him invincibility as a commander, and Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful woman on earth. Paris chose Aphrodite, and she promptly got his father Priam to send him to Sparta. No two tellings of the legend agree on whether or not Helen went willingly... But all of the Achaean Kings had sworn an oath to defend her honor. When King Menelaus of Sparta, her husband, found out what had happened, he called upon his peers to fulfill their oaths... In the end, after the death of many a hero, Troy was destroyed, its people scattered, butchered and enslaved, and Paris died at the hands of one of the Greek Heroes, although I cannot recall which one, and that's where I'll end the tale."

The Prince was looking at me. Admittedly, I hoped that the girl did not have to go through all of this... But then again, that was the best shot I had at the throne.

"An interesting legend, but I fail to see what had worried Arthur so much about it."

It took all of my self-control not to facepalm. Of course he'd ignore the similarities if it helped him keep focused on his damn prophecy.

"Well, that is not for me to say, Your Grace," I replied. God, how much did I want to beat him blue at that moment. Even for a deluded fool obsessed with prophecy, this was too much.

"Either way, thank you for telling me, Magister Daraenon." I bowed slightly and he left... Not too far from me was Robert Baratheon.

"Gods, I still want to punch him." He said. I looked at him and shrugged.

"That makes two of us Lord Baratheon."

He looked at me, and could not help but laugh.

Hopefully this would turn out well.


	14. Fourteen

The following morning the various houses were starting to depart. It was then that I was approached for a final time by Lyanna Stark. She looked at me, and I shrugged.  
  
"My Lady, is there something you'd like to say?"  
  
When she said nothing, I sighed.  
  
"Listen, be careful around the Prince... There's something wrong about him, and whatever it is, I think it has to do with whatever led him to give you the crown. As exciting as it may seem, he is playing a dangerous game, and he might try to drag you into it... Now, by your leave."  
  
I was already atop my horse, and with my small caravan ready, we departed before she could say more. I had already said my farewells to Robert, Brandon and Eddard anyway.  
  
 ** _Maidenpool, 281 AC_**  
  
I had left in fairly good terms with Baratheon and Stark. And that was good.  
  
The Tourney was at an end, and having said my farewells -Robert already seemed to count me as a friend, while Ned was a bit more cautious,- I made for Maidenpool, where I found my sister.  
  
"Nicco," She greeted me, We embraced -after all I had been forced to postpone my mourning because of that damn tourney- and walked into the house.  
  
It was only once we were inside, only my sister -because, of my family, she was the first one I could bring myself to see as family- and myself, that I finally allowed myself to weep bitterly for them, for Father who, despite that harebrained scheme, had been a good father, for Mother, and for little Haegon.  
  
Once we had calmed down, she looked at me.  
  
"Don't tell me that you did not even try anything with any of the ladies at the tourney?"  
  
"I did dance with a few... But you underestimate how much I value my head attached to the rest of my body, or my manhood for that matter."  
  
That got a small laugh out of her and I shrugged.  
  
"I did make some friends... important ones... I think." She raised an eyebrow and I said, "Lord Baratheon, as well as Lord Arryn's heir and Lord Stark's second son."  
  
She looked at me as if I'd grown another head for a moment, then added, "Wait... you intend to...?"  
  
"Maybe. There's a rebellion brewing, and I think I just found out which will be the spark to ignite it... Prince Rhaegar will do something stupid, and it will lead to the Starks, Arryns and Baratheons to rise in arms. Lord Tully might be drawn into it, and depending on what happens, Lannister might join in as well... With such an opportunity..."  
  
"Brother... what are you planning?" She looked at me, she thought, and found herself without much to say.  
  
"We'll go to Braavos, then to the Golden Company. And when we hear of the Revolt actually erupting, we'll move. I have a couple of different plans depending on how will it develop. But most of them involve fighting the Tyrells."  
  
"The Tyrells?" She still had an eyebrow raised... Hell, if I did not see her as my sister, I'd be marrying this woman.  
  
"Yep, they have no ties whatsoever to the soon to be rebels, and will give the crown some lukewarm support... As much as I'd like to have them on board of whatever new order emerges from this, I am aware that I will have to fight them more properly."  
  
"I see..." Was all she said... "Well, for once, I'm glad we won't be cooped up in Lys anymore."  
  
"That makes two of us Calla... " I replied with a small sigh.  
  
With that we sat by the fireplace. We would be leaving in the morning.


	15. Fifteen

**_Braavos, 281 AC_**  
  
Sailing under the legs of the Titan and into the bay of Braavos proper was definitely breathtaking.  
  
Braavos... it reminded me of Venice mixed in with Amsterdam and Hamburg, with some Mexico City thrown in as well. Its tall houses and buildings, the numerous bridges between the islands. And I could swear that the Braavosi were using the old Aztec method of using rafts to expand their little farmland.  
  
Our ship docked, and Calla and I made our way to a small manse that our Father had owned here. Of course, we were also here to take proper ownership.  
  
The walk through the city was interesting. Its streets were filled with vendors and small markets, and Bravos were all over the place, at this time of the day they were not dueling yet, that would wait until the moon was high in the heavens.  
  
Our manse was rather small, but fairly luxurious. And it was also one of the places where Father had left some things hidden. Old heirlooms from our great-grandfather Aenys. And some things even older, things that Aenys had received from his own father and so forth.  
  
The sun was setting when we arrived, thus, the meetings would have to wait for the following day.  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Morning found me on a chair, thinking about what to do next. We would have a meeting with representatives of the Iron Bank, after all, they were technically the owners of the house -and most real estate in Braavos- Our family had just acquired a very long term lease -and those, considering the length of the contract, were not all that expensive for a lease in Braavos-  
  
I took a bath rather early, so did Calla, and I remembered that she had always been better at two things.  
  
Business, and using a Crossbow.  
  
"I take it that I'll do most of the talking," Calla told me once she was dressed, I shrugged and looked at her.  
  
"Well, you're better at that than I am, so, I don't see why not."  
  
She raised an eyebrow at that and I shrugged in response.  
  
"Better get moving then, it's better to arrive early." She added.  
  
Our walk across Braavos was rather uneventful. Soon enough we had arrived at the offices of the Iron Bank.  
  
We waited in a comfortable room -definitely better than the waiting rooms of the banks back home- And we were eventually led to one of the offices.  
  
"Magister Daraenon, Lady Larra, our sincere condolences for your Father's passing." The man said. This was not suspicious, as news actually traveled faster between the Free Cities than between any of them and Westeros. "My name is Noho Dimittis, please have a seat."  
  
All of us sat, as I replied. "Thank you for your condolences representative. We assure you that our intention is to keep having a good relation with the Iron Bank, as our Father made an effort to do." That seemed to satisfy the man. He was dour, his voice not too pleasant, but he was sincere in his condolences. That alone earned him some respect from Calla, and also from me.  
  
"Very well, as it stands, the yearly payments are to date, thus, as stated in the contract, you only need to pay a nominal fee in order to officialize the transfer to your name..."  
  
"Tell me representative Dimittis," It was Calla, "I suppose that the contract also had the provision that the lease would be renewed under the name of all of his children..."  
  
"As a matter of fact it has such a provision. I assume that you'd like to invoke that clause."  
  
Calla looked at me, I nodded. Of course, we had agreed to do so.  
  
"Very well, I will bring the documents then."  
  
The man would, one day, be the one who tried to convince Cersei to resume the payments to the Iron Bank. He was however, pretty reasonable.  
  
Once it was all done, we both signed, and the authorization was given to take the money from the account that our father had opened -and God I knew we had money in the Iron Bank, but I had no idea that we were _this_ rich!-  
  
We were still within the premises of the Iron Bank when we encountered a man, he wore armor and carried the symbol of the Golden Company on him.  
  
"Ah, Ser Strickland." Dimittis greeted him, "I am afraid that Representative Zalyne has not yet arrived, perhaps you would like to wait for him here."  
  
The man nodded, and I smiled slightly.  
  
Perhaps I'd not have to go to the Disputed Lands just yet.


End file.
